Orders
by Pineapple Pen
Summary: Who cares that Squalo was one step away from death? Xanxus had given him an order, and when Xanxus gives an order he expects it to be followed. No matter what.


***SPOLIER ALERT* Those who haven't read chapter 398 of KHR yet, I suggest you turn back now.  
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**Did anyone else die a little on the inside when Squalo was stabbed? Yes? Of course. Everyone died a little when he was stabbed. Here's me hoping that what Akira Amano has planned for the future involves Squalo making a miraculous recovery, Xanxus' arm growing back (or getting a bionic arm, that would be awesome) and them going off to have a long session of sweet, sweet, satisfying man love.  
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**Though I don't think I can complain about the XS hints in the chapter. Me thinks Miss. Amano may be a fan of BL...Or maybe I'm just delusional because I just saw Xanxus having his freaking arm ripped off. I think I need to mourn a little... T^T  
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**And yet somehow he still looks hot even with one arm. XD  
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**I like to consider this as an XS fic, but it's not set in stone. Those against BL can just see it as friendship or something.  
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**Orders**

His arm was burning again. Like it was on fire. Like he had just shot himself and let the wound fester. And was it bleeding? He couldn't tell. There was a wetness underneath the bandages, so he must be bleeding again. Frowning, he reached over to squeeze the stub of what was once his arm. Because he didn't have an arm there anymore. That bastard Jager took it away from him.

It wasn't the only thing he took from Xanxus.

He didn't want to be there; stood outside of a hospital room, staring through a glass window with an expression of irritation on his face. He wanted to be back in Italy; back in Varia headquarters and throwing glasses at idiots, complaining that his steak wasn't cooked right. He wanted to be able to tug on Squalo's hair in annoyance and demand that the shark bring him some booze. The good stuff; the expensive stuff.

That seemed to be a far off dream now. A part of Xanxus wanted to step inside of the room and stand by Squalo's bed. That wouldn't happen either. His legs felt like they were frozen in their spot. How long had he been there now? Ten minutes? An hour? A day? _A week? _He couldn't tell anymore. At first, he had company. The rest of the Varia had come to visit – reluctantly checking up on Squalo, despite their claims that they didn't care whether he died. Lussuria offered his sun flame, was refused. Told to let the doctors handle the wound. Bel had said that 'sharky' was too loud and annoying to die. Levi didn't say anything, but Xanxus didn't care about him. Mammon hadn't said anything either. Just as well. Because Xanxus blamed him for it all.

Well, that was a lie. He blamed everyone.

It was Mammon's fault for being an Arcobaleno. It was Sawada Tsunayoshi's fault for offering this ridiculous alliance. It was Checkerface's fault for the whole situation. It was Bermuda's fault for wanting revenge. Jager's fault for stabbing the shark. Squalo's fault for being stabbed.

Xanxus' fault for not being able to do anything.

He played the moment in his mind over and over. First it was his arm being cut off. It was nothing really. He felt a short pain, as if he had been stung by a bee or bitten by a mosquito, and then it went numb. Squalo was the one who really reacted. And that led to him being stabbed.

At first Xanxus didn't know what to think. He had seen Squalo be stabbed before, but that was always in an arm or a thigh – somewhere that was not really life threatening. He had never seen the shark take a blade right through him. But he could survive it, right? _Right_?

He remembered seeing Squalo lying on the floor, hair shielding his face, blood pooling around him. It almost seemed like a dream now. Like shark hadn't been really stabbed, because _that_ couldn't have possibly happened. The bastard was the goddamned Sword Emperor – the best at what he did. He couldn't really have been so stupid as to let a moron like Jager stab him; because he was Squalo, and he wasn't supposed to die before Xanxus.

At the thought, Xanxus glared and squeezed his stub of an arm harder, sending jolts of pain up his shoulder. If he died, he decided, then he would march into that room and chop off that mane of hair himself. If Squalo died, his promise to follow Xanxus would be broken and he would not deserve to wear his hair long. He was suppose to _live_, dammit. He was supposed to stay until Xanxus took the Vongola family for himself, until his promise was fulfilled.

It wasn't looking good at the moment. The shark was paler than usual, his skin almost matching his hair, and there were dark circles under his eyes. His brows were furrowed, a crease between them, and he was sweating. At least he was fighting, reasoned Xanxus to himself.

His eyes landed on Squalo's left arm, where his hand had been severed. The false hand had been pulled off when he was taken for surgery, leaving only a bandaged wrapped stub that matched Xanxus' own. An almost sardonic smirk crossed his face and he let out a bitter bark of a laugh. What sort of top grade assassins were they if they both had limbs missing? And he had always mocked Squalo for being one limb short.

The smirk left as quickly as he came and he glared darkly at Squalo. How _dare_ he get stabbed? What gave him the right to almost die? Xanxus wasn't finished with the damn shark yet. He didn't want him to die. He wanted him to stay by his side forever, like he had promised.

It had been a long time since Xanxus wanted someone to stay with him.

Finally regaining control of his legs, he stepped away from the spot he had been staying at for minutes, hours, days, or however long he had been there. He reached for the doorknob. Glared. Reminded himself that his dominant right arm was missing. Used his left instead.

When Squalo first came to him with his left hand severed, a bloodied bandaged tied haphazardly around his wrist, the biggest grin on his face and the glow of victory surrounding him, Xanxus almost laughed. Squalo's left hand was his sword hand, his dominant hand. And he had cut it off to win a fight. Xanxus wondered if it took Squalo a long time to get used to using his weaker right hand, because it was certainly pissing Xanxus off. He wouldn't be able to write as well anymore, he thought absently. Squalo's handwriting was terrible with his right hand. Would it be the same for Xanxus' left hand?

His irrelevant thoughts had led him straight to Squalo's bed unwittingly. He blinked and stared down at the shark. He glared again as he recalled what happened after he had realized that he had been stabbed.

Squalo had disobeyed an order.

He _never_ disobeyed orders.

Xanxus remembered quite clearly demanding Squalo to get up. But he didn't. He stayed lying down like a weakling. Xanxus couldn't remember much after that. Something happened after Squalo's stabbing, he was sure of it, but it was a blur of fighting, shouts and blood. When he came around, regaining coherency, his first words were 'where the hell is my shark?' Because Squalo was his. He had promised.

'Stupid trash,' muttered Xanxus, gliding his eyes down Squalo's prone form. Life support, he noticed. A breathing mask too. An IV in his arm, more than one. He didn't look like Xanxus' second in command. He looked soft; like someone who belonged better hanging around with Sawada's group of weaklings. But that wasn't who Squalo was. He was Xanxus' second – he was the one that kept Xanxus calm (thought most believed that Squalo was one to irritate Xanxus). Most of all, he was a member of the Varia. He was no weakling.

'Who gave you permission to die?' continued Xanxus, crossing his arms. Arm. He only had one now. He needed a drink.

Squalo didn't reply and Xanxus frowned. He knew that he shouldn't expect an answer, but he couldn't help it. He was unused to Squalo being so quiet. Usually he'd be screaming. Shouting that he didn't need Xanxus' permission and could die whenever he damn well pleased. But he wouldn't die. If Xanxus didn't give permission, he wasn't allowed.

It was the ring battles all over again.

He remembered watching as Squalo let that shark eat him. Remembered feeling indifferent about it, yet at the same time something else that he wasn't quite sure of. He wasn't sure what it was until it was revealed that Squalo knew he wasn't going to be the Tenth all along, but he would still follow Xanxus – forever letting his hair grow as proof. That when Xanxus realized that he cared about Squalo more than he would have liked.

He fucking _cared_ for him.

If that wasn't a thought that would send children running, then Xanxus didn't know what would.

Now, the only living thing that Xanxus cared for (however reluctantly) may be just breathing his final breaths. Lying on his back, eyes closed, a heart monitor beep beep beeping away at a furiously slow pace. If he was quite honest with himself, he didn't know what he would do should Squalo die. The silver headed bastard had been with him for years – the only person that came close to a friend, and the only person that Xanxus had ever felt _any_ affection for. Squalo was almost like a shadow, and just what did one do when they lost their shadow?

Xanxus didn't want to think about it, but he knew that if Squalo died, his reaction would be quite similar to when he realized that the shark wasn't getting up. Maybe it would be worse. Maybe he would go apeshit on everything, killing everything in his path, accidentally destroying his body in the process. It was likely. Xanxus' temper was certainly up to the task.

He reached out to tug on Squalo's hair. Paused, glared, tried again with the arm that was still there. He wound some strands around his finger and pulled. It wasn't rough, but it wasn't gentle either. His jaw set and his teeth clenched. Squalo hated his hair being pulled. He should be shouting, not just lying there.

Xanxus pulled a little harder. 'Stupid trash,' he said again. 'What the hell made you think you had a chance if he just chopped my fucking arm off?' He knew he was being stupid and that Squalo would have attacked even if Xanxus' arm hadn't been sliced through like butter. Squalo didn't give up because his opponent might be a little stronger. If that was the case then he'd just get stronger himself. Even so, Xanxus needed someone to blame, and Squalo was the only one there.

His whole hand was gripping and pulling his hair now, as if the motion would wake the shark up. It usually did. If he was having a nap, pulling his hair was a surefire way to wake him, and consequentially set off a barrage of shouts and curses and threats from the testy Squalo. Xanxus almost tried to delude himself into believing that Squalo was just napping. But Xanxus wasn't that stupid. And he wasn't so weak as needing to deny the gravity of the situation.

Squalo could die and he had accepted that.

It didn't mean he had to like it.

The grip on his hair softened and he subconsciously played with the strands in his hand. 'What sort of swordsman gets stabbed?' he muttered, regarding Squalo's face with a dark glare. He was a man of little words, was Xanxus, but he would say all the words he knew if it brought Squalo back around. And if that worked, he would punch the bastard in the face for making Xanxus worry. Because he wasn't supposed to worry, goddammit.

Grinding his teeth in an attempt to keep calm, he dropped the hair and instead reached for the stump that was once Squalo's dominant hand. With difficulty – he hadn't gotten used to using one hand yet – he unwound the bandage from it. He hadn't seen the bare wrist since before Squalo cut himself, so he was curious to see how it had healed. It was nothing exciting. Xanxus didn't bother putting the bandage back. Couldn't anyway. Damn arm.

His thumb ran over the smooth bump where a hand should have been and he looked to his own stump. The bleeding had stopped, but the burning hadn't. He wondered if the sensation was the same when Squalo lost his limb. The heat, the stinging, the belief that sometimes it was still there.

A phantom arm, someone had told him. For a while it would feel like his arm was still there. It might itch, fingers might twitch a little, he may be able to feel surfaces. But it wouldn't really be real. It was an illusion, he had been told – like the type Mammon used, only not as realistic. The phantom arm may fade eventually, but Xanxus didn't know if he'd ever get used to having only one arm. He was just glad that he could shoot almost as well with his left.

He would miss his arm, he supposed, but he would miss Squalo more. What was an arm when Superbi Squalo could die?

Almost growling, he threw down Squalo's handless wrist and scowled at the unconscious swordsman accusingly. 'If you hadn't gotten yourself stabbed, this wouldn't be happening,' he snapped, touching the single gun at his side with his fingers. His other gun was useless now. 'So you need to wake up an beg for forgiveness, trash, and maybe I'll go easy on you.'

Squalo didn't reply.

His arm was burning again.

Baring his teeth in irritation, he snapped his head towards his stub and narrowed his eyes at it. It was more annoying than painful. It was reminding him of what had happened. Telling him that if he had moved out of the way, if he had only managed to avoid the attack, Squalo wouldn't have jumped forward in anger. If Xanxus hadn't been so _stupid_ as to lose an arm, Squalo wouldn't have been stabbed and they wouldn't have been at that hospital.

If only, right?

Xanxus knew that he couldn't change what had happened, he wasn't stupid, but he couldn't help but question it all. The word 'why?' had been on his mind a lot since he had been told that Squalo's condition was critical. He felt weak. Felt like a child. Felt lost. He couldn't settle on a feeling other than anger. Anger at himself, at Squalo, at Jager, at every single goddamned bastard involved in the fight.

Why did he even agree to teaming up with Sawada in the first place?

Regret was something foreign to Xanxus, but he felt it now. And he didn't like it. He glared at Squalo.

'I ordered you to get up, trash,' he snapped, clenching his fist and having the sudden urge to kick the unconscious body before him. 'I don't like it when I'm ignored.'

Again, Squalo didn't reply. He just stayed still, breathing slowly, unevenly. Like it hurt to breathe. Could unconscious people feel pain? Xanxus stared, now blank faced, half unsure where to go from here. He was hungry – when was the last time he ate? – he needed to shave, he hadn't since they started the whole Arcobaleno watch tournament and he _really_ needed a drink. Just how long had he been watching Squalo anyway? He was sure that a member of the Varia would tell him. But what did they matter? They weren't Squalo. If they were anything like Squalo, they would have dragged him away from staring at that window, shouted at him, told him that he was being ridiculous.

Xanxus sneered and stepped away. 'You disobeyed my orders once,' he said. 'I won't have you do it again.' His face scrunched, as if he wanted to cry. But he didn't want to. Xanxus never cried. 'So if you disobey me this time, I'll have to get a new second in command.' Squalo stayed motionless, but Xanxus liked to think that he was listening.

He shook his head and stepped forward once more, looking down at Squalo. 'This is an order, trash,' he said in his most authoritative voice. 'And I order you not to die.'

Squalo should have heard that, no matter what state he was in. He should have already been ashamed for disobeying once, but doing it twice was something unheard of for Superbi Squalo. And Xanxus had no more doubts. Squalo was loyal. He wouldn't disobey again.

Because when Xanxus gives an order, Squalo follows it. That's just how it was.

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**I tried to make it as in character and as realistic as possible. Hopefully, Xanxus will kick Jager's ass in the next chapter for what he did to our beloved Squalo. Nobody touches his shark (bitch) and gets away with it, amiright? **

**Anyway, I love writing Xanxus. He's just an easy character to base a story around and I love his interactions with others (especially Squalo *shot*). Maybe that's why he quickly became a favourite of mine in the series. As suggested by the end of chapter 398, I made out like he went crazy after Squalo didn't get back up, but I don't believe that he would act outwardly upset by it. Angry? _Hell yes_, but not upset. I imagine Xanxus to mourn loved ones by shoving his gun up the ass of the bastard who hurt them. **

**I also made it so he couldn't remember what exactly happened in the fight to keep it open, since I myself don't know what happens yet. It's believable though, right? I mean, at the end of the chapter he looked like he was gonna _flip_. I'd be shitting kittens if he looked at me like that.  
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**But I'm rambling now. Hope you enjoyed the fic and let's all hope that everything resolves itself by the next chapter ! :D  
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